Paul Elliott swore he would never live in another co-op again. Prior to his current residence at Eastlake’s historically landmarked L’Amourita, he lived at two other co-ops, one in Washington DC, and another in Seattle’s Roosevelt neighborhood. Both experiences were fraught with co-op complications: rising HOA fees, looming repair costs, and rental prohibitions that ultimately culminated with him, then in his forties, enduring a slow sales process and moving back to his childhood home. After this move, his yearly comical Christmas card depicted a classic bedtime scene; him in his pajamas with his mother saying prayers at his bedside, captioned “Still home for the holidays!”.
You would think these experiences would have put him off from co-ops for good, but when a unit became available at L’Amourita in 2016, Mr. Elliott was enamored. Against his better judgment, and largely due to the stunning views from the living room, he moved in. The distinctive Mission Revival building sits proudly at the northernmost edge of the Eastlake neighborhood, its dramatically curved facade, terracotta tiled roof and arched porches cutting a striking figure against the neighborhood otherwise consisting of single-family homes and boxy condos. Built in 1909 by prominent suffragist Edith DeLong Jarmuth and her husband, Adoloph Jarmuth, the building originally consisted of four townhouse style units with roughly eight rooms apiece. Over time, these units were subdivided until they reached their current configuration of 21 single-bedroom and studio condos. Many of the units in the building, including Mr. Elliott's, are railroad style and boast peekaboo views of Lake Union to the west and less stunning views of I-5 to the east.
This western facing “poor man’s view,” as Mr. Elliott fondly calls it, is what ultimately convinced him to move into this building and risk co-op life once again. It’s this very view that greets me as I step into his living room on a warm spring evening, his cheerful yellow walls glowing in the sunset and music from a favored all-blues radio station playing in the background. One glance around the cozily decorated room pulls the eyes immediately to the large fireplace centered against a wall. It’s not the sheer size that draws attention, (although it is considerable, spanning nearly a third of the wall), but rather what sits on top of it. Arranged artfully, free from dust, and taking up nearly the entirety of the surface, are dozens of pieces of presidential memorabilia. Commemorative glass plates sit alongside campaign buttons, framed newspaper articles, and a cartoonish teapot in the shape of Ronald Regan’s head; when in use, hot tea pours gracefully from his nose. On their own, these objects may seem like mere kitsch, but in Mr. Elliott’s space, they are cherished possessions indicative of a life’s passion. Bookshelves are full of presidential histories, campaign posters lean against dressers, and walls adorned with framed photos feature an equal proportion of family to those with political figures as their subjects. The most notable of these shows Mr. Elliott as a teenager with Richard Nixon in 1968 - whose campaign he worked on at the time. This also happened to be the same year that Mr. Elliott worked alongside Ted Bundy, who had a penchant for Seattle politics before turning his attention to more nefarious activities. Mr. Elliott and Mr. Bundy’s paths thankfully diverged, but they both developed a fascination in another topic of shared interest; death. While Mr. Bundy’s was a horrifically vile sort of interest, Mr. Elliott’s was nothing but virtuous, focusing on the mortuary arts and funeral industry. Over time, his interest in politics merged with his interest in mortality, and created a rather unusual sort of bucket list; to visit the burial sites of every US President. At the time of this interview, Mr. Elliott had only six locations left.
Moving from the western to the eastern side of the apartment indicates a shift in both tone and function. While the western side is all daylight, warm yellows and reds, cozy furniture arranged in a sociable setting, and beautiful views, the east forms its necessary counterpart. Walls shift to a cool green, outward facing windows are shielded from the highway with room dividers and trinkets, and furniture becomes more inwardly focused as bookshelves, a single rocking chair, and a double bed come into view. The open concept room functions as both the kitchen and bedroom, with bay windows and arched doors that open onto a shared patio. More often than not, the patio is occupied by one of the building's many cats, who Mr. Elliott does his best to keep from slinking into his room. The views on this side feature what can only be described as Seattle’s biggest eyesore—a colossal convergence of twelve lanes of the I-5 expressway leading to Ship Canal Bridge. He does his best to distract from this view by filling his bay window with an assortment of delightful objects. A fishnet-clad leg lamp sits prominently within the large bay window, illuminating hanging papier mache acrobats from Belize and well-organized souvenirs. Most of these items, including the leg lamp, were gifted to him by his sister, who shares both his love of traveling and unusual keepsakes. It is possibly the one place in the condo free from presidential memorabilia.
When not telling the story of a man with a love of political history and mortality, Mr. Elliott’s possessions speak of an all-American boy with a love of popular culture; a boy whose father gifted him a cherished poster from Seattle’s Century 21 Exposition in 1962 and has hung onto it for sixty years since, who proudly displays a framed photo of himself in a newsboy outfit paired with an award for spectacular delivery service, whose kitchen possesses a working 40s Coke machine purchased for $12 at the Kingdome’s demise and whose walls are adorned with candid photos of jazz and blues musicians. Photos of him and his long-time girlfriend sit adjacent to snapshots of famous burial sites. Theatrically staged Christmas cards share the same space as newspaper articles featuring horrific headlines and morbid moments (Skeleton of Lindbergh Baby Found Near Home! Will Rogers, Post Killed!!). Wherever you look, the quietly comical and morbidly fascinating live alongside each other, the light and the dark blending together and creating a view of Mr. Elliott’s life that is just as stunning as the sunset view from his western facing living room.
